


What a Girl Wants

by radiofreehartwin



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, What a Girl Wants AU, musician eggsy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-07 13:02:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12233391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiofreehartwin/pseuds/radiofreehartwin
Summary: Roxy has always known who her father was, and now that she’s heading into university, it seems like the perfect time to track him down. All she really knows about him is his name is Harry Hart, and that he’s on a clear path to being the youngest PM in history. It’s just a shame that he seems so unhappy. And when her newest, and quickly her dearest, friend meets her father, sparks fly, and Roxy decides that maybe there should be more to Harry’s life than an obviously arranged marriage and political celebrity. After all, her mother always said that she wanted him to be happy above all else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We're about 90% complete, editing and filling plot holes in as we review. Expect an update every week, or faster. Tags will be updated with every new chapter, keep an eye out, but we'll warn if anything drastic changes.

“Tell me again?” the little girl pleaded as she curled into her mother’s arms. Libby smiled softly and stroked her sweet girl’s hair back. Her eyes reminded her so of Harry.

Sweet Harry, who had loved her so deeply, and yet had needed so much she that couldn’t give him. She did miss him, even more so on days like today, when Roxy wanted to hear about her father.

She couldn’t deny her darling daughter anything, though.

“All right, well. When I was a young woman, out trotting the globe with my brother, I met a handsome prince. I didn’t know that he was a prince, but he was charming, and funny, and had such a way about him that I couldn’t help loving him,” Libby started now.

Roxy had heard the tale so many times by now that, had she the vocabulary, could have told it herself, as enthusiastically as her request to be told it once more.

“You married him!” Roxy insisted interrupting eagerly.

Libby laughed at her daughter and kissed her head, stroking her hair again.

“In a way,” she assured the child. “We participated in a beautiful Bedouin ceremony, and it brought us closer than we thought we ever could be. So, Harry wanted to take me home, to his beautiful castle back in England.”

She let her fingers pet soothingly over Roxy’s hair again, and let the little girl cuddle in closer now.

“And I loved it there, yes, even if all of his family wasn’t completely happy with me, and our music, and laughter. But I knew your Papa wasn’t completely happy, with them, either. He wanted so much more,” she sighed, pained, knowing the truth was too vast for a toddler. She continued, instead, “And I couldn’t deny him. I wanted Harry happy above all else.”

“And you left?” Roxy asked softly now, looking up at her. “With me?”

“Yes, with you, sweetheart. Your Papa didn’t know that you existed though, and I can’t be angry with him for not coming after me. Sometimes, darling girl, there are things in life that keep us from those we love. And your Papa would have loved you terribly if he’d had the chance.”

“Can’t he now?” Roxy asked curiously, a curious little rush of sadness and pain that she didn’t really understand yet coursing through her at the shake of Libby’s head.

She wished she could give her daughter a better answer, but life truly wasn’t fair sometimes, and this was one of them. She kissed Roxy’s forehead, murmuring a promise. “No, not yet, but one day. When you’re big enough, he’ll be happy to meet you.”

And happy to love her, she knew that much. Harry had such a big heart, there was no way he wouldn’t love a child of his own, no matter what.

It was that last phrase that carried Roxy into adulthood.

When her mother passed away, she was given all of the photos that she had of Harry, and of herself. Her uncle had come up with a whole collection of them from the trip where her parents had met, and put them in a scrapbook for her. It was one of Roxy’s most prized possessions growing up.

Even when she’d discovered that her father wasn’t a prince, she hadn’t minded. Despite her tender years, she knew that her mother had told it that way on purpose, for a little girl desperate to know her father, and needing the fairytale to be told.

Year by year, the memory of the story faded, but Roxy always remembered that promise, and told herself that her desire to meet her father wasn’t a bad one, even if she’d found two more to love her and be loved by her.

She always remembered that her mother thought they should meet, the fading memories a reassurance. And perhaps it had more influence on her choices than anyone realized, but even as a child, she’d always known one day she would find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Find us on tumblr.](http://radiofreehartwin.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

It’s not that Roxy disliked her life. Her fathers (technically her uncle and his husband) had been nothing but wonderful to her. She had been loved unconditionally, and seen more of the world before twelve than many people saw in their entire lifetime. But that didn’t stop her from wondering about the what ifs. Wondering about her birth father.

She had pictures of her Mum, lots of them, many taken by Papa. However, her mother had passed away when she was very young, and she’d never met her biological father. She had pictures of him, too, a surprising amount, really. Mum used to tell her all about the handsome young man who had spirited her off on a motorcycle and made her feel like the only woman in the world that mattered. She even knew his name.

Harry Hart.

He was handsome in all the pictures, smiling. Lovely hair, darker than Roxy’s own, that she could imagine her mother tumbling with her fingers. They had the same chocolate brown eyes, though his were shaped differently. She got hers from her mother’s family.

Roxy always wondered what had happened between them. Daddy didn’t know, and Papa said it was probably for the best. Her mother moving to America had been good for them all. Roxy wasn’t sure why she hadn’t stayed with Harry, so she couldn’t help that sometimes she wondered what her life would have been like if her mum had.

Over the years, she’d celebrated her birthday in a myriad of exotic places. She’d turned ten in Morocco where her parents had met, twelve along the Mekong River and the floating villages there. She’d dived the Great Barrier Reef at thirteen, scoured Mayan ruins at fifteen, for her sixteenth spent a summer touring Italy. Seventeen happened in the lost city of Petra, discovering the beauty there, and eighteen had happened just this year watching polar bears in the Arctic Circle.

James and Alistair had taken her with them on all their travels and shown her the world through a camera lens. She could speak more languages than most, at least conversationally, and she’d really had the most unique education growing up. They had always encouraged her to learn everything she wanted to learn and more, and to apply to only the best schools.

She felt that getting into Oxford was a sign. She knew her father was British; she even knew that he currently was in London. So it wasn’t so hard to request a year's deferment on her admission, and after her 18th birthday, she told James and Alistair what she wanted to do. That she wanted to go find her biological father.

That was what brought Roxanne Morton to a youth hostel in London proper. She had checked the place out thoroughly, using the resources both her fathers had provided to find the best (and most affordable) place to stay. It was cheap, but clean, and had a good reputation. Roxy couldn’t help being nervous as she entered. She still had no idea how she was going to approach one Harry Hart, much less find him. But she was here now, and that was just a start.

She looked around curiously as she entered the main room of the hostel. There were people scattered about the main lounge area, and a young man was sitting on top of the counter with a guitar in his lap. She grinned a little at that. He looked quite at home, and if there was no standing on ceremony, it suited Roxy all the better.

She moved over to the counter with ease. “Ah, hello, I need to check in.”

“Here? Really?” Eggsy asked curiously, looking at the girl who was much more put together than the average patron. A lot more, really, considering her clothes, and the expensive looking leather boots on her feet. He gave her a smile though and hopped down from the counter, guitar swung around to dangle from his back as he reached back and fetched the placard that read ‘check-in’, banging it down cheerfully.

“Right, Eggsy Unwin, how can I help?”

“Yup.” Roxy grinned a bit at him. “Eggsy? That’s an interesting name.” She laughed a little and put her bag on the counter.

“Nickname, had a thing for breaking eggs when I was wee,” Eggsy explained as he headed behind the counter.

Roxy laughed lightly at the reason for his nickname, picturing it in her head and thinking it likely was still perfect for him. “Roxanne Morton, but you can call me Roxy,” she greeted happily, very amused by the check-in boy. He seemed like an interesting fellow.

The guitar was shrugged off and set carefully aside as he pulled up Morton in the computer. An indefinite reservation, a month paid in advance. Impressive, he thought. Most of their residents barely paid a week in advance.

She leaned on the counter and watched as he searched the computer for her reservation. “You play much?” she indicated the guitar he’d set down.

“Well, Roxy,” Eggsy grinned, grabbing the key to her room, and logging her check-in. “I’d say I do, ‘s one of me jobs. But let’s give you the tour.”

“Excellent,” she declared. “Yes, please, show me about. This place is pretty nice compared to some of the horror stories I read about.” Her first impression of the hostel was pretty positive anyway, but Roxy knew she was very eager because of her mission. “And then I’d love a recommendation for things to do and places to eat.” She smiled at him entreatingly. “Tour guide doesn’t happen to be one of your hats, does it?”

Eggsy chuckled a little. “It can be. Just tag along an’ I’ll show you around. Not a London girl then?” he asked as he led her to the common area.

Roxy shook her head. “Afraid not. My mum was born here though, and I know my dad is from here,” she offered up easily.

When she shook her head, he nodded in understanding. “Well, first things first: you’ll be safe here. We’ve got a fairly violent policy regarding consent and proper manners. Anyone starts to fuck with you, scream out if you want some help. None as stay here will bother you, swear down.”

She followed him curiously now, looking around as he pointed things out. Roxy took in the cozy, if worn, furniture. Everyone looked pretty comfortable; it was reassuring. She hummed quietly as she took it all in.

“Communal phone’s right over there,” he pointed, “loo’s that way, showers beside it. They’re in the same spot every floor. Be warned, Bake Off and Eurovision are both top channel here. Should you try and change the channel during either, violence may occur.”

“All right, I’ll keep that in mind,” she said with a laugh.

Honestly, though, Roxy had no intention of staying here much during the day. If she was lucky, and if she got her guts up, not much at all. But she’d paid for the month just the same. She was about to turn away from the common room when she saw something on the television that was familiar.

Her eyes widened some and she gasped.

“That’s my dad,” Roxy breathed, almost like a little prayer. That was _Lord_ Harry Hart speaking in front of the microphones. That was a bit more than Daddy and Papa had told her. Perhaps she should have googled him herself. She watched the screen. Though it was too low to hear what was being said, she’d seen that face in enough pictures to know him.

“Harry Hart is your dad?” Eggsy nearly gaped, though he supposed he could see a resemblance. “Didn’t know he had any kids, except for that wanker he’s marrying into.” He gave the screen a good look, as he often did when Harry Hart was up on it.

“Well, he’s in line to be PM. Britain’s next top daddy, I suppose.” The leer was almost second nature, his crush on the man well known by his mates. Hard not to, given how fit he was.

“Ah, well, he doesn't know he’s my dad. But he is.” Roxy hugged her bag to herself briefly, thinking of her cherished photos, of her birth certificate. She laughed a little at Eggsy’s crack about Harry’s looks and shook her head.

“I’ll take your word on that last bit there,” the words were teasing. “Glad to know someone thinks he looks good besides my mum.”

Roxy stared at the screen, sighing quietly, and watched him talk a bit more, eyeing the others behind him. “I’m here to meet him, actually.”

“Oh, well, that ought to be a trip,” Eggsy said, a little incredulously. “I can tell you where he lives,” he offered, nodding his head. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room, and get you the address.”

“Oh god, you’re an angel. That will save me loads of time.” She offered him a grateful smile, nodding her head. “Lead on, kind sir.”

A bolt of excitement went through Roxy. What were the odds, to find him so quickly, so easily?

She felt terribly lucky. This was already going so much better than she had any right to expect. Maybe it was an omen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Find us on tumblr.](http://radiofreehartwin.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

Roxy was feeling amazing about her chances, really, her optimism over it all rising since everything was already going so smoothly. The decision to go to the house was just following the idea of having a look, nothing more. She didn’t intend on doing anything else, she mostly just wanted to see where her father lived. For now, at least. It would help her prepare mentally for the brazen introduction she would make soon.

She took a bus, following the directions that Eggsy had given her to the letter and hopped off in the right place. She knew there was a large house an hour or so away from London, and another one further north. But Harry Hart kept a London residence near Hampstead Heath in deference to his political career. She followed the directions, crossing the street and heading curiously down towards the gates that showed a beautiful mansion building with wide yards.

There was a guard at the front gate, making Roxy hesitate before walking closer. She felt a little justified by it, when she was swamped by the awkward feeling of him noticing her looking, and asking who she was. She mumbled shyly about just looking before hurrying on. She continued on towards the end of the high wall, looking along it as she went.

It was easier to slip up around the corner of it when the end came, and to head for the far side. On that side it was just the green covered wall, with no guard in sight. Roxy bit her lip, reminding herself she was just supposed to look, and considered the greenery before her. It was vines, some thick enough to grab ahold of and really tug. The idea of getting a closer look suffused Roxy, and she nodded to herself, shouldering her backpack a bit more securely before getting a solid grip and starting up.

Just a closer look, that’s all, she swore to herself. A quick in, and a quick out back over the wall again. She wouldn’t even talk to anyone, she’d stay out of sight, she rationalized to herself as she reached the top and swung a leg over.

Inside the house, Harry Hart was trying to finish his breakfast while he reviewed his itinerary for the day, busy as always. Sometimes he missed the time before when he wasn’t making major political moves. It was far less stressful.

Prime Minister would be a very strong position to end up in though, as Glynnis had frequently pointed out. He sighed a bit as he took another careful swallow of his tea and frowned at his schedule. He was hardly going to have time to breath today, like normal.

He could hear Glynnis chattering about something, and Charlie, his soon to be step son had decided to wander himself in and flop down for some food, making a fuss about his eggs being cold. Harry glanced up quietly and looked over the young man. Sometimes his attitude frustrated Harry terribly. If he was the boy’s father he certainly wouldn’t be allowed to be quite so spoiled.

He sighed and glanced at his watch. “I’m sorry, what was that Glynnis?” he asked politely, realizing she’d just asked him a question.

“I asked if you were prepared for your speech at Oxfam ball,” the woman herself answered, a touchy ice, pasting a smile on over her irritation. He was a lovely fiancé, attractive and certainly deft and attentive in bed. But sometimes she wondered if her own aspirations were worth the sacrifices she was making in order to become Lady Hart.

Outside, Roxy grunted as she picked herself up from falling off the top of the wall. She quickly skittered to get behind a tree and caught her breath. That had hurt, really. She wasn’t injured at least, so Roxy took a breath, heart pounding and peeked out.

Nobody seemed to have noticed, or if they had, they hadn’t come out to investigate. Once her heart had slowed to a normal pace, she moved to use the hedges to sneak closer to the house, so that maybe she could get a peek inside. Maybe she’d see her father, she thought.

“Did you see that?” Charlie interjected, making his mother turn to look at him.

“What?” she asked, and shook her head when he threw his napkin down on the table, pointing.

“An impossibly large bird, falling off the wall.”

Glynnis stared at her son. “Darling, are you hallucinating?” she asked, leaning over to stare at his eyes.

Drugs had never been an issue before, but she supposed that the pressures of Harry’s road to election could have driven him to it. Harry blinked a moment, relieved to have Glynnis’ attention off of him. He didn’t even want to think about that bloody speech.

They were both interrupted when Lady Jocelyn swept in. “Anyone seen my pruning shears? The old bat seems to have forgotten where she put them.”

Glynnis and Charlie both hid their grimaces. They had shared that nickname for her since moving in.

Harry’s eyes flicked to his mother and he smiled at her. “Good morning, Mother,” he greeted her warmly. He folded his newspaper and put it down, picking up another bite of his terribly healthy food. _Who had arranged this meal?_ he wondered with a sigh.

Time for a subject change, since it was obvious that mother was in a mood with Glynnis and Charlie. “Glynnis, Charlie? Doing anything good today while I am terribly busy?”

In the garden, Roxy hurried until she was close enough to sort of peek in the window. There, she could see the man who was her father, and a few other people she couldn’t recognize at all. She watched the scene inside with quiet interest and a too healthy dose of curiosity.

“I believe Daddy has some plans for us involving the campaign, darling,” Glynnis started before Charlie interrupted, his chair pushed away from the table violently as he pointed once more. Harry wanted to cringe at the idea of more campaign business. Chester was all right in his own way, but the campaign was wearing on him.

“There's someone at the window,” he insisted. “I'm not hallucinating!”

This time Glynnis glanced over fast enough to see something, and make her frown in annoyance. “It's those bloody paparazzi again.”

Harry startled, shaking his head and stood quickly, moving for the door out onto the veranda. They might as well grab the young person while they had the chance, maybe stop some of the others. She fell backwards scrambling slightly almost onto her arse as the door came open quickly enough.  Her eyes going wide. Obviously getting caught hadn’t been the plan.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Harry demanded of the young woman he saw trying to scamper off to the side. She froze, her eyes going wide.

“It’s you!” she gasped out. It was him, Roxy almost couldn’t believe it. Her father, right in front of her. Harry Hart.

She almost grunted as the man reached down to grasp her by the arm and haul her up. She sputtered, unable to speak as he pulled her inside, through the dining room that she hardly got a glimpse of, and towards another. A foyer, she realized when she was finally released and could look around, though she couldn’t help staring at Harry somewhat.

“Good god,” Glynnis gasped as Harry dragged in a young girl who was protesting. “I can’t believe how young they’re starting you guttersnipes now. Who sent you? The Sun? The Daily Star?”

She’d get the information to Chester immediately so that they could spin the situation, get the common sympathy going. After all Harry was the first person to give up his hereditary seat and make an actual run; this would only endear him more and hasten his path to Prime Minister.

Roxy squeaked and then her eyes shifted wildly to Glynnis for a moment considering the words the woman said. “What?! No, no, I think you have the wrong idea,” she protested now, quick and vehement.

“Look, I don’t care anymore. How long do you all have to spy until you get that there is no story!” Harry demanded now. He knew what he’d done was unconventional. But it was a smart move. “Good god, you’re young. Look at you—you can’t be what, more than 17.”

Harry sighed heavily and shook his head. He wanted terribly to just drag his fingers through his hair, to throw something, anything. The papers were getting bloody ridiculous. The girl was shaking her head now, mostly to try to get their attention.

“Look, take your picture and go,” Harry ordered quickly, startling her.

“But...” Roxy glanced nervously towards Glynnis, and heard footsteps, she had to explain herself.

“Harry what in the world is going on?” Another man, older, appeared now in the hall. “Why is Charlie telling me to call the—” He paused as he spotted the young woman who was digging into her bag hurriedly, then narrowed his eyes when she held up a picture, her hand shaking.

“I don’t need to take one, I’ve already got a picture of you,” she told him breathlessly as she offered the photograph as proof.

“Harry, what in the hell,” the old man started.

Harry, for his part, stared down at the photograph that the young woman showed him. He could remember it almost like it had happened yesterday. He’d always liked that shirt. It had been very comfortable, and Abby…  She’d been so wonderful to him. So supportive.

“Where the devil did you get that?” Harry asked, his entire demeanor softening.

“From Abby,” was the quiet and steady answer, making Glynnis go pale and cold.

“That singer you met on a camel?” she demanded, turning to Harry, appalled.

Harry felt a wash of shock go over him at the young woman’s words. “Why would she give that to you?” he asked now quietly, staring at her.

Roxy shifted in the chair, all of the intense attention now making her a little nerve-wracked. “I’m Roxanne Morton. I’m her daughter,” she admitted a little shyly. “And, she thought… I’d like to know what my father looked like.”

She shifted again, fishing around in her bag once more. “I’ve got my birth certificate. It-It says you’re my father.”

“Harry, for heaven's sake,” Chester started now, trying to get between them slightly now. He looked a little pained at this whole idea, it would cause them problems.

Charlie leveled a glare at his mother’s fiancé. “Seems you had an even better time in Morocco than you let on,” he accused snidely.

“Oh dear god,” Glynnis said, turning to stare at the girl. This couldn’t be happening, on the eve of her wedding _and_ the election? It was all falling apart. She wanted to yell at her father; Chester had assured her that this little mess had been well taken care of before she’d agreed to remarry for the future. And now it was all going tits up.

Chester stared at the young woman. This couldn’t be possible. He’d paid that woman more than enough to leave. He had thought that it was understood that she wouldn’t even pretend that the baby was Harry’s. This was a bloody disaster in his mind.

Harry, was confused, and found himself feeling suddenly uncertain. Why would she have left without telling him? Why would she have left at all? She’d encouraged his... other interest, but if there had been a baby, why hadn’t she told him?

He stared at the picture, then at the birth certificate. One he knew was authentic, the other, he couldn’t tell. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. Harry turned and looked at his mother, who had joined them, and immediately felt ten years old again, with a scraped up knee and a story about how it happened.

“No…” He cleared his throat and tried to be firm. “No, there must be some mistake.”

Roxy swallowed nervously as she watched Harry. She knew that it wasn’t a mistake. She knew that this was right. And she was not leaving with a pat on the head, and being told that it was all a mistake. She couldn’t. She had the feeling, though, that the fight was only just beginning. Roxy only grew more certain when she saw the rude woman moving closer to Harry now.

Glynnis snatched the paper from Harry’s hands, looking it over.

“Exactly, a mistake,” the woman insisted smugly. “This doesn't prove anything. This Abby must have written down the first man she could think of.”

It would make sense, really, the way she said it, for them to explain it away without anything else. An old girlfriend who got herself done up and needed a rich sperm donor to support the child. That she’d never contacted him for money could be easily overlooked.

Harry actually paused, hand halfway to dragging through his hair as he took a shaky breath. “I just...”

“As far as I know, you are the only man she’s ever thought of,” Roxy protested quietly. That knowledge was mostly from what Alistair had told her multiple times about her mum, rather than the shady memories from when she was very young. She wished desperately she’d known her longer, but she trusted him not to have lied to her.

Glynnis turned to Harry. “Can l have a word with you in private for a moment, please?” she said, and when Harry paid her no mind she bit out. “Harry?”

He didn’t say anything again, and she turned snide.

“You're not going to believe her, are you?” But she could see that he was thinking over it. she shot her father a desperate look. This couldn’t be happening.

“I...” Harry paused. The young woman moved to stand up quickly, visibly anxious. She gripped her bag a bit more tightly to her.

“Maybe… Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I can see this is a big shock for you. I, I know, I’m freaking out and I’ve known about it since I was two,” she admitted now quickly.

Harry blinked at her a few times.

Roxy started to ramble a little bit, which she rarely did, but she was so nervous. “I just, I mean, I’ve always dreamed about this, and I imagined something a little bit more...” She trailed off, not sure what more was. She just knew it wasn’t this.

“Did you say you’ve known about this your whole life?” Harry interrupted quietly, more uncertain, and surprised, too.

“Um, yes?” Roxy said slowly. She felt a flicker of hope. Maybe he was listening, maybe it would be okay.

“This is ridiculous,” Charlie declared after a moment when he realized that Harry was actually going to listen to the girl. She was maybe a year younger than him, and he wouldn’t say no to giving her a go, but he wasn’t going to sit here and let anyone shit on his future.

As far as he was concerned, there would be only one heir to the Hart title and fortune, and it would be him. After all, it was only the matter of getting Harry to sign a few papers, and Mummy and grandfather both swore this would be their legacy. “You need to leave, Mum’s right, a piece of paper doesn’t make you anyone’s kid. I’ll show you the door if it’s that hard.”

Harry ignored Charlie now, leaning in towards the young woman. He could see, sort of, himself in her. He shook his head. “You’ve known, and she didn’t think that maybe I would want to know I had to a daughter?” he asked quietly, his tone making it more of a demand.

Roxy sighed quietly. “Mum died when I was little. I grew up with my Uncle and his husband.” She bit her lip. “I should go, this was a mistake.”

“You’re not going anywhere, we’re going to sort this out,” Harry said just as quickly to stop her from bolting. He knew that the others would object, but he wanted her to stay, to get this sorted now without having to hunt all over the city to find her.

“Harry. Please.” The old man said now, trying to shepherd this in a different direction before it all went sour. He had a feeling he was failing.

“Good. Now we've got that settled, how about some tea and a nice piece of fruitcake?” Lady Jocelyn tried to interject, her stomach twisting at learning Abby Morton had died.

She hadn’t like the girl much when Harry had brought her home all those years ago, and she regretted not being kinder. Though, loathe as she was to admit it, she had certainly grown to care far less about appearances and proper social graces since then, so that meant she was curious about the girl that claimed to be her granddaughter.

Glynnis glared towards the old woman, interrupting her almost to direct the discussion back to the issue at hand. “Excuse me, what happened to the mistake theory we were operating on a moment ago?” she demanded.

“How could she keep this from me!” Harry demanded suddenly. He needed to understand this, Glynnis be damned and then he just shook his head.

“Harry, please, yes, it’s a shock. But we can just let the girl go now,” the old man tried to soothe him, in hope of regaining control of the situation. He hoped desperately that Harry would let it go. They didn’t need this.

“I can go,” the girl spoke up. She was perfectly willing to, and Harry could see that easily.

“Not until we get to the bottom of this,” Harry corrected her quickly. He couldn’t let her go now. He needed to know more. He needed to, he _wanted_ to know his daughter, even if just for a bit.

He could see Abby in her. He could see himself in her. It felt so strange.

“No, we absolutely cannot,” Jocelyn agreed, almost snappish at how fast her son’s purported in-laws were dismissing his… well, his daughter.

“Shall I call a hotel, madam?” Percy, their butler inquired, popping up out of almost nowhere, he was already prepping a mental list of appropriate accommodations for the young lady; daughter or not she would be treated well.

“And tell them what, exactly?” Glynnis hissed at him. “That the best-known electoral candidate in a generation is requesting a room for a teenage girl? The press will have a field day.” And she wasn’t about to allow her future to go down in flames because Harry was taken in by a sad face and a forged birth certificate.

“No, Glynnis. you’re right.” Harry sighed quietly interrupting the young woman’s flight, he then considered her a little bit longer. “She’ll stay here. With us.” It wasn’t like they didn’t have the room.

Roxy’s eyes widened a little bit now. She hadn’t thought that would happen. What about her room with Eggsy? Would she even be able to get ahold of him?

“No, that’s settled, come along Ducky, I’ll show you your room,” Lady Jocelyn beamed, catching up the young lady’s arm in her own. She seemed lovely, so far, and anything that put a bee in Glynnis’ bonnet pleased her.

Roxy blinked a little and then followed the older woman quickly, curiously. She couldn’t help looking back over her shoulder at Harry though who had heard yet another protest from Glynnis.

“Glynnis, she’s staying,” the man said, voice gone a little sharp. “We can’t just send her out, we can’t just arrange for her to stay elsewhere. It’s not like she can’t stay in one of the rooms here,” Harry told her stubbornly. “We have plenty of them.”

After only moments Glynnis was staring after the retreating dowager and the girl who was about to ruin Harry’s career, then huffed as Harry himself headed for one of the parlors to pour himself a drink despite the early hour. She followed him, anxious to set things to right, calling, “Darling,” quieting a little before continuing again, coming alongside him and turning entreating.

“Darling, all I’m saying is before we let this hypothetical daughter blow your political career completely out of the water, we might at least consider doing some checking up on her.”

“Checking up? On what?” Harry frowned as he brought his attention properly back to his fiancée. She was a lovely woman, if a touch annoying. He wished terribly he dared not have a wife on his arm, or potential wife anyway. He sighed heavily. “Glynnis, I doubt there is anything to check up on….”

“Oh, I don’t know, a criminal record? Blood type? Triple sixes on her scalp?” She snatched his drink out of his hands and slopped it back down on the sideboard. “Rather than just accepting her at her word. Honestly, Harry, have you not considering she’s lying?”

Oh, that hit a nerve.

There was no way after all this that she was still saying this. “Glynnis. She has a birth certificate.” He sighed, thinking of the photo. “She has my photograph. _She has my eyes_ ,” he said fiercely now. He had to make Glynnis understand.

“Darling, I’m only thinking of what's best for you,” Glynnis soothed a little now, trying to temporize at his reaction. “l know you don't like thinking about it, but the press can be brutal.” And frankly she didn’t want to weather that storm. The calmness of it was ruined though by her son.

Charlie, having followed his mother, chimed in. ''Exclusive! Harry Hart in Love Child Shocker!''

“Actually, she’s not strictly a love child,” Harry protested a little. “Her mother and I were married. I mean, not technically. It was a Bedouin ceremony in Morocco. We had intended to make it official as soon as we got back.”

Harry sighed heavily. “But, well, things came up. And Abby…” He shook his head quietly, thinking sadly of how it had been, finding her gone.

She’d been his strongest supporter. She had given him all of her love, and hadn’t judged him when he had found someone else. She’d said she felt privileged for him to be so honest, and kissed his cheek, and told him to follow his fault.

“Well, she left anyway.”

Glynnis nearly choked on the tea she had poured at Harry’s admission. Though technically not legal—she’d have to look into that else their own wedding might not be valid—it was enough that perhaps they could spin the press when this came out. Which it would, because Harry was intent on keeping the girl.

“Apparently taking something of yours with her,” Charlie put in rudely, staring out the window where the old bat was showing the grounds off to the girl.

“Oh, put a cork in, Charlie,” Glynnis ordered.

Charlie huffed off, shooting, “Maybe someone should have put a cork in it seventeen years ago!” back over his shoulder.

The teacup in Glynnis’ hand shattered on the floor as she covered her face, she couldn’t believe her own child had just said such a thing.

Harry frowned, his voice crisp as he told the young man, “Charlie, shut up.”

Chester shifted now, considering the last twenty minutes. They had to figure out how to work this. It would take a little time, but he could get the girl to leave, too. She’d be easier to oust than her mother, he was sure of that. Some money, perhaps, or something else surely would convince her.

A heavy sigh left him. “We’ll look into the marriage. Besides, she’s dead now. It hardly interferes with your current choices.”

He mostly said it to sooth Glynnis’ little panic. But he knew he had to remind her she had the right to marry this man. Needed to marry him.

Harry looked at Glynnis, then his nearly father-in-law. “I need a few minutes alone.” He was quick to escape to his office. He _did_ need a few minutes, to think, to gather himself.

He had a daughter. Abby hadn’t told him. She’d kept a daughter from him. Had let her grow up with other people. He didn’t know anything about her at all, except that she was brave, and she reminded him so much of Abby.

He took almost an hour, thinking of Abby and those halcyon days. And the reason, well, what he supposed was the reason she might have left. But there was nothing he could do about it now, she was gone, apparently. But she’d given him one final gift. With that in mind, he went to find his daughter, all doubts erased from his mind.

He found her with his mother, and found himself unable to keep from smiling quietly at how Roxy and his mother seemed to be bonding. It made him feel quite good, comforted even. He knew that Jocelyn hadn’t been fond of Abby, but to see her take Roxy under her wing, so to speak, was too lovely. He only interrupted them to request the number of her guardians.

Her Uncle Alistair, and his husband James, she had informed him as she wrote the number down for him. Then he had hidden himself back in his office and brooded until he was ready to make the call, half dialing a few times before he succeeded in actually letting it ring.

It was late enough in the Morton-Spencer household that a ringing phone was cause for concern. Everyone they knew was aware that they tended to keep ‘early to bed, early to rise’ hours in order to be as successful at their careers as they were (and late to bed involved a great deal more nudity and orgasms than was polite for company). So when the phone rang James found himself rushing to snatch it up, despite the fact that Alistair was off on a weekend assignment to distract himself from their missing daughter.

“Yes, hello?” he asked, nearly demanded.

Harry blinked a moment. “Ah, Hello. This is Harry Hart. Am I speaking to James or Alistair? Roxanne gave me this number,” he said slowly. The voice on the other end sounded demanding, a little anxious. He wondered if the time of his call was inconvenient. He hadn’t thought it was too late, but obviously he might have been wrong.

“Oh, it’s you.” James tried not to huff, as much as he disliked the man on principle for letting Alistair’s sister just up and leave and not at least making the attempt to follow her.

_He_ would have. Well, he had, just with Alistair. But Harry Hart? No, he hadn’t, and that made James dislike him.

“Well Roxy’s safe then, right? Are you sending her back home?”

“She’s quite safe. And welcome to stay as long as she wants. I just...” Harry sighed a little bit now and then ran a hand through his hair.

“Look, I’m just struggling to understand why Abby didn’t tell me I had a daughter. And why...she was raised by her uncle, and not her father. I don’t even know where to begin to get to know her.”

He could tell the man didn’t like him, the tone of his voice told him that much. “I don’t even know why Abby left.”

“Maybe if you’d not let her run away,” James said coolly. “Just once did my husband leave. I didn’t wait around to see if he’d stay gone or not. Or was Abby just not that important?” He made a derisive noise. “Perhaps your political career was more important than her? Certainly more than a child. Abby wanted to protect you, and Roxy.”

James didn’t actually give a fuck. After all, he’d spent too many birthdays watching Roxy wish on her candles that she’d get her real father one day. It didn’t even sting, just hurt, for her.

“I had no idea where she’d gone,” Harry responded a little sharply. “I would have gone after her if I’d been able to find any hint of where she’d gone. She was one of the only people who fully and completely supported me emotionally. She made me feel like there was nothing wrong with me.”

Harry swallowed. She’d been so good to him, even knowing that he didn’t love her the way that he’d hoped he could.

“She…Understood me. I didn’t want her gone!”

Harry’s eyes closed for a bit, then he took a breath.

“As I said, Roxy is welcome to stay as long as she likes. I want her to. I’ll happily pay her way and show her about, show her off even. It’s the start of season here. She’d be a lovely addition to the events and I would be happy and proud to have her with me.”

James couldn’t help but think Roxy would be miserable. But she’d chosen this, and really, it was only a year until university. If she hated being Lord Hart’s daughter she did have another future, one that she had chosen wholeheartedly before deciding to find the man.

“Abby never spoke of it to me, maybe Alistair knows details. Just. Don’t hurt her, Hart. She’s been waiting on you for a long time, and she deserves this to be wonderful.”

“I wouldn’t,” was his first, instinctive protest, followed by a softer but no less strident, “I will do my best not to.” Harry was quiet for a moment.

“I’ll do whatever I can to make this visit good for her. And I swear I will keep in touch when she’s decided to go. Thank you… For helping raise her and making her into the rather brave young woman I’ve seen today. I’m sure you had a good hand in it.”

“Well, she’s a good girl. She made it easy,” James grudgingly told the man.

“I can believe that,” Harry found himself replying quietly.

He was starting to wonder how much, exactly, he had to learn about his daughter. Harry could say that he was looking forward to it.


	4. Chapter 4

Roxy found herself frowning at her clothing. When Harry had suggested she might want to attend the Royal Dress Show with him, she had jumped at the chance. She’d not been sure what she’d wear since it would be her first chance to be seen in public with him, and she knew it was a big step. Roxy made an unhappy noise as she laid out a few more things on her bed, sighing a bit.

All of it just seemed wrong somehow. Nothing seemed like the best choice for something so important, or any choice at all really.

Charlie was not nearly so easy with the new situation as his mother pretended to be, nor was he as much of a prick as his grandfather. He, unlike the two of them, already had a plan. After all, she was obviously a bumpkin of some sort, and humiliating her would be a good start in convincing her she didn’t fit in here.

Embarrassing his soon-to-be stepfather would only be even better, because then the man would stop acting like a heel and get her gone.

As such he’d already completed step one (loosen the showerhead in the loo) and step two (dressing as awfully as he could manage) and headed into her room with a casual knock to complete step three. “You’re not thinking of wearing that are you?” he asked, derision dripping in his voice.

Roxy almost jumped, startled at the sound of Charlie’s voice. She found that she really didn’t like her soon-to-be stepbrother, not even a little bit. She glanced at him though, then let her eyes widen somewhat.

“Wait. You can dress like that for the Royal Dress Show?” she asked quietly as she took in the way he was dressed. It was more like someone going out to a club than anything that the queen might see one in. It did comfort her slightly, perhaps she did have something she could wear after all.

Charlie snorted, pleased at how easy this would be. “Of course, that’s the whole point,” he encouraged her, showing off the slip jeans with artistic rips. Completely worth the sacrifice; after all he could just buy more. “Turn up in a sensible dress and pearls and you might as well be wearing a sign that says ‘spot the plonker.’”

And the more casual he could trick her, the more ruined she would be before they even began. Maybe by this time tomorrow she’d be gone. A shame, she looked like she’d be a nice fuck, but he couldn’t always have his cake and eat it too.

Roxy chewed her lip a bit. “I see.”

She sighed and then moved to poke into her wardrobe again. She’d somehow amassed a collection of clothing she hadn’t brought with her. She didn’t really mind that, though. “What would you suggest then? I’m not sure if anything I have really suits.”

“There’s always scissors,” Charlie assured her. “Rips don’t come this artistic off the rack. Just snag something and do it up, alright?” he told her. he was hoping to get her started so that she couldn’t run into him changing—at least until it was too late to change back. She could either come as a fool, or skip if he didn’t pull it off.

She frowned a bit at that and then moved to poke about now through her things. “I don’t think I want to cut anything up. I’ll make do with what I’ve got,” she said as she found a pair of jeans she preferred, and a cute belt. And where was that one top? It showed off a bit of her stomach, but not enough to look trashy.

She hummed quietly as she dug about now. “Thanks Charlie,” she trailed off slightly. It did seem odd that he’d help her with anything at all, considering he was a bit of a prick most of the time.

“What are step siblings for,” he assured her, turning on his heel to hide the triumphant grin. He paused at the door. “Better hurry up though, Mum and Harry despise being late.”

And that was a lie if he’d ever told one. Harry was never on time unless Mum and grandfather made sure he was on the move. He waltzed out, pleased with his work.

Roxy huffed a bit. “I will,” she called after him, and then hurried to make her selections, having no idea that Charlie was flying to change his clothing and join everyone downstairs.

Harry found himself frowning up the stairs a short time later, later than even he usually ran. “Isn’t she about ready?” he asked, moving to make his way up them to check on his daughter.

Roxy was a lovely girl but it wouldn’t do to be late for this, it was a bit too important. Surely she wasn’t doing this on purpose? Or perhaps she had some of his own bad habits.

Glynnis only glared at Harry and shoved her wristwatch under his nose. Obviously one more tick against the girl, if she was going to ruin this. The noise from upstairs was punctuated by a shrill screech that sounded startled and angry.

Charlie’s smirk made her narrow her eyes, but Glynnis didn’t ask him. Yet.

Harry sighed heavily and then looked up towards the rooms. “….Roxy?” he called out, pushing past Glynnis and starting up the stairs. “Roxy, we need to be going are you alright?” he called out again, concerned.

“I’m fine!” Roxy called back quickly, wrapping herself up in a towel. “Just go ahead, Harry! I’ll catch up. I swear!”

She scrambled to get her clothing from the bed. She’d figure something out so she wouldn’t look like a total fool with wet hair that would never dry in time.

“We have to go!” Glynnis added insistently, almost grateful the girl seemed to have some sense. “Prince Charles is going to be there already, and Harry, and Wills.”

Charlie moved to his mother’s side, staring innocently at the man on the stairs. “She did say she’d come along later.”

“All right, all right. Roxy, be careful!” Harry called back up the stairs and moved to rejoin his fiancée and the young man who was to be his son. He offered his arm to Glynnis. “Let’s get on then,” he sighed quietly.

He’d wanted to show up with Roxy at his side properly. This was just a disaster wasn’t it. He let himself be led out to the waiting car now though, trying to trust Roxy to get herself there. She’d found him, after all, so she was obviously capable.

Glynnis couldn’t help but be smug as Harry came along as obediently as he should.  “Well, isn't this perfect?” she chirped as they drove off.

Harry sighed quietly and then gave her a tiny smile. “Of course, dear,” he agreed to be polite. Sometimes he wished she knew how much he was disgusted and frustrated with her.


	5. Chapter 5

Roxy tried to hurry, getting herself dressed and ready to go as fast as she was able. It took longer than planned and her hair just wasn’t going to look right, but there was no time. She swore under her breath and hurried downstairs with her bag in hand, having called Eggsy as soon as she could to see if he could deliver her to the dress show himself.

She felt a flicker of panic in her gut, though. Something did feel a touch off.

Eggsy was really fucking relieved he’d not actually gone so far when Roxy called him. He should have called her before showing up at the Hart manor, but after the less than friendly reception he’d hesitated. She was one of them now, wasn’t she? Maybe he weren’t good enough anymore to be friends. But her name was solely responsible for the smile on his face as he answered.

“Poppet,” he greeted her, and at her frantic request turned on a dime and sped back, this time allowed in.

No, he wasn’t above the smug smirk he shot the guard, parking in front of the door as it flew open and Roxy rushed out. He gaped at her for a moment, then closed his mouth. “You said you was going to the Royal Dress Show, yeah?” he asked, wondering who had let her out for the event dressed like this.

Roxy was so glad that he’d shown up. He was a dear, and she was beyond lucky to have found a friend like Eggsy so quickly. She paused at his question though and looked at herself then back up. “Charlie said this would be more than acceptable. You should have seen what he was wearing!” she protested now. “What’s wrong with it?”

She frowned a bit she knew she looked good in this, cute and sassy.

Eggsy frowned more deeply than Roxy herself, filing away the name Charlie for later looking into it. “Alright, luv, we’re mates, an’ I’m gonna level. Did you see him walk out the door? Cause I bet you he wasn’t wearing whatever you saw. The royal family goes to this thing, and you can’t be showing skin and wearing… what are those?” he asked, staring at the little boot things on her feet. They were cute, yes, but not even close to what would be expected.

Roxy swore loudly and then turned sharply on her heel. “They’re booties,” she huffed and then stomped back in and towards the stairs. “God, now I’m going to be even more late than I already was, I’ll be right back, I swear it,” she said quickly over her shoulder. “Don’t leave.”

She rushed to make her way up to her room and change, the jeans were going to have to be kept but she had a top that would be far more suitable if this wasn’t what she should be wearing.

Eggsy resolved to look up the berk who’d given her bad info. But for now, he parked the bike and clambered off it.

“Look, wait. You got a blouse? And heels? I can help, swear down, mum’s a hairdresser—not a fucking word do you hear me?” he said when she gave him an odd look. “We’ll get you done up right quick.”

“Yeah, I do,” Roxy called back. It wasn’t hard to reach her rooms again quickly. She quickly pulled out a blouse that would look okay with the jeans and a pair of low pumps that wouldn’t look out of place with the ensemble She hurried to change into both, grabbing her brush and hurrying back to meet him brandishing it.

“Do something please. I feel like my hair hates me right now.” She was so glad he was here, and that he was so thoughtful.

Eggsy took it. “Bobbi pins?”

She found some handed them over quickly, ready to let him do whatever sorcery he was capable of. In short order he had her kneeling on the edge of the bed while he smoothed and twisted and pinned until her hair was in a neat S-twist up the back of her head. “Alright, come on, we need to hurry. I know a few shortcuts.”

She couldn’t help briefly admiring what he’d done with her hair as Eggsy snatched up a scarf he saw falling out the armoire, looping it about her head. “You can wear my helmet, it’ll be bigger and not fuck it up.”

“Okay, yes. Thank you so much, Eggsy.”

She let herself be led back downstairs to the waiting bike. She saw some amusement among the staff, like Percy. He seemed to find the whole thing entertaining. She tucked the helmet on and settled behind him, arms around his waist so he could drive as quick and twisty as he needed. She trusted him.

They’d made it halfway there before the headache really began. His spare helmet was too small, really, for his head, but considering he’d gotten it to fit Daisy it wasn’t a surprise. By the time he slid them to a stop in front of the building the front doors were already closed, and Eggsy huffed a little.

“Pompous twats,” he muttered, freeing his head as Roxy slid his helmet off of hers. Her hair still looked decent, and he smoothed it a little.

Roxy huffed a bit herself, and then carefully handed over his helmet and smiled at him briefly before looking at the doors. “What if they don’t let me in? They’re already closed.” She motioned briefly and then looked around some.

Nobody else was lurking about. She felt terribly nervous and then offered him a smile.

Eggsy huffed a bit of laughter. “No worries, Rox. Around back, big wood doors. They never lock them during the show because half the debs need to nick out for a smoke. Or a fuck,” he added thoughtfully, because it was true. “Now don’t be any later, and don’t let them fuck with you. Get goin’.”

Roxy couldn’t help a laugh at his advice. She kissed his cheek briefly. “Thank you again,” she said and then gave his arm a squeeze and headed for the back quickly. She just wanted to find her dad and join them now.

She slipped through the door, nodding to a few people who gave her curious looks, but nobody seemed interested in stopping her. She threaded through the backstage looking for a place to duck out to where the seats would be.

It wasn’t too hard. She asked for directions twice and then got turned around. There were some curtains ahead, but when she pushed through them her eyes went wide as she saw the crowd of people staring at her. Oh hell. She’d found the catwalk.

She took a breath and then straightened herself up and started to walk. Well, she was here.

Harry had been fretting fairly obviously. Roxy hadn’t made it before the doors closed, and that troubled him. He was distracted, ignoring the fact that Charlie had gone to join a few of his friends almost the moment they arrived, snickering quietly over things and the girls. Then there was a rising murmur making him glance up, staring as his own daughter stepped out of the curtains, dressed decidedly not the way she should be for the royal dress show.

“Oh my giddy aunt,” her father breathed out in shock, making Glynnis look up at the catwalk in horror. There was that awful girl, in jeans of all things, god what was this, right there in front of everybody, including the royal family in attendance.

“Holy shit on toast,” Charlie muttered, half giddily where he sat between Rufus and Digby. Someone must have warned her about the clothes, too bad about that, but this was even better than he’d planned.

Harry groaned and his hand came up to cover his face briefly. He peeked through his fingers as Roxy took a moment, then posed properly and strutted down the catwalk with the other girls giving a bright smile. A few people laughed, and there was even more chatter. She reached the end, posed properly then shifted to carefully moved to climb down, smiling broadly.

“Hello, Dad,” she greeted him as she moved to settle next to Harry. He sighed heavily and then gave her a smile.

“Well, that will give them something enough to talk about,” he muttered then smiled at her, a little proud. She hadn’t let it ruffle her feathers, even if she still didn’t look like she should. He gave her hand a little pat.

Glynnis stared at Harry aghast. “Darling, surely you’re not going to let this go? There will talk!” she whispered hastily at him, the murmurs around them definitely louder than the soft music the dress show was playing. The debutantes continued to go through their paces, but sure enough most of the attention was on Harry, and that abominable girl.

Harry shrugged quietly. “They will talk anyway, what with her appearing as she did,” he reminded her with a shrug, and then glanced at Roxy, smiling faintly. “Perhaps you’d like to have a proper debutant while you’re here?”

Roxy blushed and then shook her head.

Well, perhaps not now, though Harry was going to ask again, when she was a bit more settled down. They leaned against each other and watched the rest.

“You know that girl?” Rufus asked Charlie now, eyeing her a bit. “She _is_ saucy, isn’t she?” he commented quietly. “Who is she? I’d certainly like to play with her.”

Charlie snorted. “My tacky future stepsister, apparently. His Lordness couldn’t keep it in his pants.” He shot a look at Rufus. “I’ve got first dibs. If she’s staying around I’m minded to take her out for a ride.”

Glynnis just frowned and turned away from Harry and his daughter. Make the girl a deb? Give her a season? What was the man thinking, bad enough she was illegitimate, Bedouin ceremony or not. That would give her a credence she didn’t have, and Glynnis wouldn’t stand for it. she would deal with this when they were home.

Rufus snorted “Yes, yes, fair deal. But I want a taste after,” he insisted, wiggling his eyebrows. “Because she might be tacky but she’s lovely to look at.”

“You’re disgusting, Rufus.” Digby rolled his eyes a bit.

Harry smiled quietly. Roxy deserved something special though, keeping her cool just as a Hart should. Roxy was leaning on his arm just a little, not too scandalously, but like an adoring daughter. He was indulgent of it and smiled at a few other people, making the whispers die down some.

They just had to get through the after event. It would only be a few hours more, even with food and tea and socializing properly as expected.

“At least she’s not American,” Charlie muttered.

Glynnis had heard the comment but ignored it, because to an extent her idiot son was right. But it didn’t change the fact that the rest of the show involved no real enjoyment and a pasted-on smile. When it was finally over she turned to Harry.

“Darling, might I have a word with you?” It rankled that the girl was comfortably leaning on her fiancé.

Harry sighed quietly at the request and then gave Roxy’s hand a pat. “You go get yourself a bit of tea and a snack all right?” he encouraged before he moved to get up, offering his arm to Glynnis now. “All yours dear.”

“Okay.” Roxy eased herself up and moved to head for the refreshments tent outside, a lot of other people were headed that way and it wasn’t hard to blend into that crowd.

She could almost sense the boys following, Rufus ogling her arse in the jeans quite openly. Rude. She wanted to kick Charlie’s friend in the balls quite honestly.

It drove Glynnis to distraction that before she could Harry off to the side they were waylaid with questions, and as vague as she attempted to be Harry was more than forthcoming over his daughter. There was no denying it now, she supposed, unless the blood test came back stating otherwise.

Bloody hell, the man hadn’t needed to actually invite the girl out with them till it was returned. She’d have to speak to him about that, because it wouldn’t make him sympathetic if the girl was fooling them all. It would make him look just like that—a fool.

Charlie did his best not to get waylaid with questions as he found the hors d'oeuvres table, his mates following along. The conversation continued as it had before, when they’re been rating the debs on the catwalk. Rufus had been unbearably catty, but then, he was the only one of them who’d been foolish enough to make an effort on one or two of them. He supposed his willingness for sloppy seconds was a result of that.

He smirked a little when he spotted Roxy heading their way. “Oh, make way everyone. Plebe coming through,” he told them in a mock whisper.

Rufus laughed a bit. “Hello, dear lady. You made quite a splash up there.” He tried to charm her but only succeeded in making Roxy roll her eyes at all three of them. She tsked a bit and then moved to reach around them.

“You know girls don’t actually like being treated like pigs up for slaughter,” she muttered as she dodged them now, picking up a bite of something to eat. “We like to be treated with respect.” With that she moved on taking a bite from the nibble and looking around some.

Charlie laughed at Rufus as Roxy walked off. “God, she’s gonna be wild in the sack.”

Roxy was distracted by a woman dressed very nicely, who seemed somewhat familiar. She had a dog with her, which immediately drew Roxy’s attention. She smiled and moved around in front of them both. “Oh, what a cute dog,” she said delightedly as she reached out to gently give the dog a scratch or two behind the ears.

“I beg your pardon?” Princess Charlotte asked, shocked that this strange girl—the one who had started the catwalk and the settle into the empty seat by Lord Hart—reached out to pet her dog without pause.

“I’m Roxanne Morton, Harry Hart’s daughter,” Roxy introduced herself politely. She leaned down a little more to give the pup a few more pets now. “Oh adorable. Can I play with him?” she asked, moving to pick the puppy up before even really waiting for the consent of the familiar woman.

The puppy really was cute and made her want to cuddle it.

Charlotte almost ordered the girl to return the dog before her mind caught up. “I didn’t know that Harry had a daughter,” she said, half suspicious, but entirely curious. “Oh, careful, she’s very temperamental—a biter!”

Roxy blinked a moment that the warning but found herself on the receiving end of some puppy kisses, also noting the correct gender. “Yes, I’m afraid I didn’t exactly grow up in England,” she confirmed and then laughed softly at the licks. “Oh, but she seems so sweet.”

She cuddled the dog some more, then shifted to put her down and play to try to get the pup to roll over and whatnot, crouching to do so.

Harry didn’t mind at all explaining to anyone asking that Roxy was his daughter. He was actually very proud of her, despite only being in her life recently. Yes, she was considering staying for a bit. He was looking forward to knowing her after all. Then he heard something going on, couldn’t help looking up.

“Oh hell,” Harry breathed as he saw who she was talking to, he was moving without thinking heading for Princess Charlotte and his daughter, worried that she’d caused a real problem now.

Charlotte filed that away; the girl sounded perfectly native, but if she’d not grown up here Harry should surely have boarded her somewhere to ensure the result. But the fact that Eloise was behaving so well for the girl pleased her enough that she could ignore the impropriety of it all.

Glynnis was startled as Harry excused himself—hastily enough to be rude—and then paled when she saw what had caught his attention. She hurried after him, nearly dropping her champagne as she did so.

Roxy was truly enjoying playing with the puppy now. “I’m staying with my Dad right now. I’ll be starting at Oxford next year,” she offered up, smiling at the older woman. She seemed quite nice and indulgent of Roxy.

Harry eased his way over now. “Ah, Princess Charlotte,” he said a bit apologetically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t, ah.” He wasn’t sure what to say really about this situation. What did one say to a royal when your daughter just appears in front of her and seems to dognap their pet?

“It's all right, Harry,” Charlotte told him, eyes still on the young lady who was getting her darling dog to roll over. “I’ve just been having a delicious moment with your daughter.”

She smiled, looking at him. “Wonderful girl, lovely. Didn’t get your height. Bit… rough around the edges, but still.” She glanced at the man’s fiancée, who looked ill, and bit back a laugh. “Is she staying for the summer?” she inquired, stirring an obviously unsettled pot.

Roxy giggled now as the pup did do a roll. It was adorable, absolutely the cutest thing and she told the little dog as much. She tilted her head now and peeked up, having heard the question, and wanting to hear Harry’s answer.

“Ah, yes, yes she is. In fact, offered to sponsor her if she wants to have a proper season,” Harry answered, almost relieved with the simple question.

“You really mean it?” Roxy asked now, moving to stand, scooping the puppy into her arms once more, cuddling it. The dog licked her cheek again.

The chorus of no’s from Glynnis and Chester were overpowered by Harry’s certain assurance, and Charlotte delighted when Roxanne came up behind so curiously. “Oh, my dear, you’ll love it,” she enthused as that Glynnis woman choked on her drink. She continued on, even more pleased.

“Beautiful gowns, lovely tiaras, long silky gloves,” and she smiled a little wickedly. “And the feverish kissing in the cloakroom,” she finished, poking that one at Lord Hart who looked a little green around the edges as he realized he had a daughter. An adult daughter. Who absolutely might indulge in said feverish kissing.

Roxy laughed softly at that. It sounded like it might be pretty entertaining, really, and give Harry some gray hair. She giggled some more at the thought, then handed Eloise back over to the older woman. “Is that so? In the cloakroom?” she asked with a grin.

Harry’s face purpled somewhat but then he found himself laughing. He would certainly be talking to Roxy about any feverish kissing, but he hardly minded the idea of presenting her to society. “We’ll be sure to send you an invitation,” he told Princess Charlotte quietly, promising.

“I’d love it if you came, really,” Roxy told her sincerely, her mind vaguely mulling over what it meant to have a debut.

Charlotte smiled, rising. “I look forward to. Now, I must have my little baby back.” She cuddled the dog. “Come here, my darling,” she said, cooing at the dog as she took the pup in her arms, ignoring how she snapped at Harry. “There now sweetheart.” She moved away, content to cuddle her precious baby.

“A season, Harry?” Glynnis managed, trying not to sound accusing, at least in front of the girl.

Roxy looked at Harry curiously now, cocking her head quietly. “Does it mean something special?”

“It’s sort of… an old fashioned, but, well. It’s our way of saying you’re… eligible to be married and all,” Harry admitted now with a blush. He chuckled. “But, um, mostly it’s about the parties and the social aspect these days.”

“Oh, I see,” Roxy said and hummed thoughtfully.

Turning to Glynnis, Harry asked, “And why shouldn’t we show her off Glynnis? She’s my daughter, not a dirty secret.”

“But a season? It’s so much to plan in so little time,” Glynnis said weakly. She could see that Harry would be unswayed on this; she wasn’t sure if she should hope the paternity came through or not now.

“And we can handle it. You’re very excellent at planning things,” Harry reassured her with a smile. He had faith. “She’s going to be your daughter soon as well,” he pointed out, “and we should make her debut perfect.”

Roxy blushed some “I’d really like it, Glynnis, please? It’d give me a chance to get to know you,” she said.

She was lying mostly but she very much liked the idea of Harry fussing over her. It would let her get to know him a bit more. And if it offered her the chance to confirm her dislike of Harry’s soon-to-be wife, she wouldn’t say no.

“Well, if you insist, darling,” she told Harry, trying not to even look at the girl. Wasting time and effort putting this nonsense together for her. She’d be gone before summer was over, she had to be. Oh god, would Harry want her in the wedding?

Harry smiled. “Good,” he said happily. He relaxed now that that was settled. “Now I see someone I have to speak to.” He patted Roxy’s arm and then moved to start off. “Why don’t you join me, Roxy?” he invited, coaxing her.

Roxy laughed and moved to walk with him. “Alright, show me off if you must,” she teased.

She was getting used to this, how he was and his social standing, and how it was easy to talk to him.

Glynnis stared after Harry before rushing over to her father. “Daddy,” she fretted, her champagne flute clutched tightly.

Chester huffed. “Relax, darling, relax. She’ll be gone in no time, just like her mother,” he promised, already thinking of various ways he could get the girl gone. One way or another, she had to. She was endangering everything he’d worked for for nearly two decades.


End file.
